Gauranga!
by kattycha01
Summary: Nobody likes to wake up in a new place without any memory as to how one got there, worst still if your brother in all but blood is severely wounded and unresponsive. This was exactly in that situation Issachar woke up to.


"Ow...Oh...what happened last night." He groaned aloud, Glad to hear his own voice after his blackout. _'what did I do, what did I drink and what the hell is that tree?' _ he wondered as he gazed up at the exotic essence.

It was a huge tree, its trunk made of roots. It's wide branched covered with beehives and thick deep green leaves. The limbs of his impromptu shelter reached out in all directions, creating more areal roots seeking the ground. The Canopy of the tree was so dense, so thick with leaves that very little sunlight streamed trough, but after closer inspection, he realized that what he was seeing was what remained of an old concrete root engulfed in the three's vine-like appendages. On the lower part of the trunk, people had tied stoned, small cloth bags and strings of pearls.

The ground he was lying on was marble, and a stone with a 'U' shaped mark on what could only be its front sat on a fairly new marble base, looming over it was a snake made out of Jade with a glowing red stone at the top of its hoods.

But what really caught his attention was the atmosphere pervading this tree, it was...inconceivably powerful, like a pressure one could not shrug off, it induced a sense of awe and reverence, and yet, it felt friendly, protective and extremely loving.

Like his father.

It was around a thousand times grander than when he and Flynn had walked in the Ritual ground in Mikado...

'_Wait...Mikado...the gauntlet Ritual...' _ and then nothing.

...except a deep, simmering anger and a black samurai.

Oh, and a young man of sixteen with very dark skin and a fancy feather in his fancy hat. Looking at him with a crooked, rakish smile that hid an unlimited amount of love.

But now the casulary was definitely not in Mikado anymore. The air was hotter, humid and fragrant with the aroma of exotic flowers...

And cooked pork, for some reason.

He rubbed his grumbling belly, trying to calm it down. He was famished._' a nice pork loin with some apple sauce sound.' _ Following his nose, Issachar realized that...meat he was smelling.

It was the smell of burning flesh, Human flesh.

_Burning houses, villagers running Pele-mele, trying to escape the demons thirsting for blood._

_Demons...who used to be friends, family, neighbours. All of those Friendly faces turning fiendish out of the rage kindled by the black samurai's literature. _

_His people screaming, Flynn, the traitor, holding a sword..._

_Blood...chaos everywhere..._

Nausea, dizziness...

He got up from the leaf-covered ground and, holding onto the root of the great banyan tree, tried to digest what he had done.

He had...killed.

'_What have I done?' _Issachar, his stomach more empty then it was prior, asked himself. He already knew...but still, it did not decrease the horror he felt.

Could he even trust himself anymore? Would he kill again?

would he feast on the body of his slain victims or...

His mind kept churning, telling him that most where Luxurors who fell to his claws, and thus deserved it. But he knew casularies had also perished during the assault.

_They were weak, and thus Issachar should not cry for those weaker then him...it was the law of Nature after all._

_Many where dependent, they had families and friend...they suffered so much..._

And then, breaking him out of his mental turmoil,Issachar saw a pair of scorched white boots peeking from behind the looming snake stone.

_Samurai boots._

Somehow, even as an undead creature, he felt his heart skip a beat or two.

'**Go, take a look,' **he heard a voice deep within his heart. And as hard as he could try, Issachar could not help but follow.

He shakily made his way around the weird pedestal, careful not to disturb the deity enshrined there.

He saw the prone body of a samurai — his pants where white, except for the area around his singed belt. The opulent long blue coat was in tattered, and the white vest seemed to have been blown apart, exposing the burnt skin underneath.

'_lightning strike...' _he knew the sight, working in the field.

The gauntlet was still slightly smoking, now hopelessly fried by the current that passed through it. The metallic glove emanated a stench that was an unholy mixture of scorched flesh and a substance usually brought back from Naraku.

But what stopped his heart, was the identity of the afflicted.

It was Flynn.

* * *

Somewhere else, at the gate of the Rajapur temple compound and sacred grove, two figures stood guard. They were completely black, like obsidian, their Dhoti, Kurta and helmets were darker the as black as jet. Only some golden decoration and their ruby red eyes stood out against the gloom of the night. Behind them, black capes fluttered in the non-existent breeze.

They where immobile, floating above the ground as their glowing eyes skimmed the impenetrable darkness for any sign of a treat.

Jackals, Dacoits, demons...and people in distress. Anything that could disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the Holy place had to be dealt with accordingly.

Then one of the two guards spoke. "You know, I'm not one to complain." He drawled in the most casual of accent, exposing a row sharp, pointy teeth.

"But..."

"But...I sort of miss guarding the outer rim."

"Why? that place is crawling with demons."

The guard shrugged his shoulders. "What can I do, I'm accustomed to the action, man. I'm just not used to this peace thing."

"What are you used to then?" The other one, who spoke with a sweet accent, adressed his Partner. He only knew Manohara Das for four-month now, and he was only starting to get to know this man.

"Well, you know. Surviving in a place where the sun doesn't shine, hunting demons for their flesh and clearing up the path for the two twerps we were training. it's been my life for two years-kind of miss all the action now..."

"That's...That's terrible."

"Yeah, it was, to be honest," Manohara admitted as he rubbed the back of his head. "... we had like no hope back then. But we had this one guy named Flynn working to get us out of the hell holes. "

"Plynn?"

"Fu-riin...I know, I've never met anyone with a most unfortunate name." Manohara commented with a smirk, "But that guy...Hee-ho! He could move mountains. Last I heard, he was preparing to go face off Merkhaba and Lucifer, a real piece of work those two."

"Why?"

Manohara fully stared at his colleague. "Why? C'mon Srikanta. I thought I told you. It was to get the people of Tokyo out of that Sh-err...garbage dump and out in the open."

"Oh yeah, now I remember." It was the first thing Manohara had opened up to about his mysterious past

"Yeah...But, I gotta admit though, what he's-was trying to pull off is not all that amazing. I mean sure if your stuck in that place and hoping to see the sun again, then Flynn is more or less a legend, the hero of the people, the lifter of the oppressed, the liberator Of Tokyo. but here, in Mayapur?"

He blew a raspberry. "Well, getting out of Tokyo is nice and all, but everyone still dying, and everyone now Hates God more than usual."

"So, he's saving coats from drowning."

"Yup...It still pretty awesome of him, But, you know. We die underground and go to real hell, or we die outside and go to hell. Wet shit, dry shit."

This caused Shrikanta to crack a smile.

"Yeah, man. I swear since I joined the whole Community...I kind of see The angels' point of view better. Still, I Wouldn't touch their damn bible, can't stand a bunch of religious fanatic...especially feathered ones."

"Thank God For Srila Prabhupada's Mercy and sane approached to spiritual cultivation."

"Yeah...all hail Prabhupada."

"Jaya Prabhupada!" Both sheered as the glorified the great teacher, a beautiful smile on their faces, chuckling at their goofing-off.

"Still...can't help but wonder what happened to him, though. I mean, me and Nick got bailed outta that place before any real action could take place..." Manohara mused as he gazed at the peaking dawn. "Anyway, M' not sure how I would like him now since, you know..."

"Gauranga got you."

"Yeah man. And Nitiyanada, and Advaita."

"Gadadhara Srhivasa-"

"adi Gaura Bhakta Vrinda." Both guards rumbled as they raise their powerful arms to the moonless sky in praise of the presiding deities of Sri Dham Mayapur.

It was almost the end of their shift, and the area was relatively safe. With only the wild dogs, Jackals and maybe this one old bandit who thought he was sneaky to cause trouble. The night had been otherwise calm and dull, they could slacken off somewhat.

"Anyway...Back onto what I was saying, I wouldn't mind some more action tonight." Manohara concluded to his colleague, who raised his eyes to heaven.

"Be careful what you wish for Manohara," the other guard warned his friend. "Remember, the ground of this Navadwip Dham is made of philosopher stones, the trees make every desire come true, and the cows are wish-granting beings." Srikanta warned as he went on guard.

"Aw c'mon Sri, that's just some hocus-pocus." The younger of the two dismissed the fear of the native guard.

"Listen, this is the land where God dwells; it's not from the world of atheists and their blind eyes. I have seen_ plenty_, plenty of desires granted, and Miracles happening here, even the smallest one. Especially by our Jagannath Swami."

"Oh yeah.?" Manohara smirked with a challenging tone. "Well then, let me desire the impossible; I want to see Flynn...no wait, even better. I want Flynn to be in Mayapur, hang out with me, then later, go and save Tokyo from that Bastard pulling the string!"

Right at that moment, the two guards heard a scream coming from the old Shiva temple.

It was in Japanese, and it was a cry for help.

"See, I told you so." Srikanta triumphantly addressed his junior.

"Hey...can it. Let's just go and see who's in trouble." the Vishnu like guard grumbled as he tried to stop his racing heart.

"Yes, maybe one of those children you keep talking about...or Plinn." He teased as both made their way to the temple under the Banyan tree, moving through space at the speed of the mind. Summoning they heavy stick to deal with whatever had the dumb idea to break the peace.

"Naw man, _Flynn-_" he emphasized. "Is in-" and then the whole phrase died in his mouth.

Besides the millennial Shiva-linga where two young men; one was wearing travellers cloth, his red eyes revealing that he had taken a few to many 'reds'. Beside him was none other than the Tokyo liberator in all his wounded glories, guarded by the red-eyed human.

"Oh, Krishna..."

Call Him crazy, but he would later swear that he heard both Shiva, Gauranga, Jagannath, Baladeva and their Little sister Subhadra burst into a peal of beautiful laughter at his predicament.

* * *

Issachar stared... He had not expected to attract Two living, glowing, jet black and gold statues of what could only be a pair of gods armed with_ huge_ sticks.

And one was starring owlishly at Flynn.

_"Oh, Naraku's lowest pit...what now? Why can't I have just a bunch of normal, everyday human? I didn't want demons...Oh, Flynn!_ _What Have I gotten myself into?_' He did not like how that one kept starring at his friend.

_'A friend.' Issachar_ paused as guilt burned inside his stomach. _'Would Flynn still see me as one?'_

Probably not, but it's didn't meant that the ghoul would let his blood brother dies at the hands of-

"Who...Who are you? What...what do you want with us?" Maybe they came to help, came a small, barely audible voice in his heart.

...Well, he did call out for help.

The one that had been staring at Flynn took a step forward, and Issachar stood in front of his brother. He stood between the looming behemoth and his fallen best friend.

_"...can I even be considered this to Flynn anymore?'_ His shoulder lowered at the thought, guilt weighting them down._ 'Well, he may consider me however he wants, but I am not letting him die!'_ His resolve back, Issachar tried to appear as threatening as possible in front of the two towering figures.

His mind conjured the image of a Kitten hissing at a huge dog._ 'yup...that's pretty much my situation now.' _

His first idea had been to run. Well, grab Flynn and run for their lives, but he had the distinct feeling those two would probably catch him pretty quickly.

"Hey there, buddy." The black creature spoke with a very casual tone, trying to appear smaller than he was as he knelled on one knee. "My name's Manohara, I work as a guard here. Can you tell me what happened to Flynn?"

Issachar stared. "How do you know him?" Issachar breathed out, his fighting stance somewhat loosening.

"Well, You're from Tokyo, Right?"

"No, I'm...we are from Kiccigiorgi...are we...where are we?" He finally asked... "wh...what going on?"

"Whoa there bud, stay calm, we're here to help. Can you let us check up on him?" The guard asked as he leaned a bit forward, already, his ruby red eyes on Flynn.

"_**Do no worry. Just let him do his job."**_He heard the voice in his heart spoke. And once again, he couldn't help but agree.

"...Don't try anything funny, or else-" The undead Casulary warned as he tried to appear as menacing as possible.

"Or else what?" Manohara shot back as he scooted closer to the unconscious Flynn. His smirk Letting Issachar know that his bluff was called. Then he returned his attention to Flynn.

"_Oh G...Um...oh to hell with her teaching. Oh God, I hope he's not dead." _Issachar prayed as he watched the black and gold guard examine his Best and only friend.

He heard the second guard address him in tongue. And the second one, Manohara quipped back something in the same language before returning his attention onto Flynn. Whom he had tried to awaken with the same amount of Success Issachar had.

"Sorry about that, man. My friend was just asking if you could tell us what happened and how you managed to get her from Tokyo, and if you're the one who harmed Flynn."

Cold sweat covered Issachar's back..."I...I have no idea I-How we got there. Whatever this here is..." He took a deep breath in. "And...and I think I'm the one who...who murdered Flynn." those words...he never thought he would utter them.

The moment those few words left his chapped lips, the entire atmosphere changed.

He knew he probably was the cause of his Brothers' predicament, and knew he would deserve the punishment.

'_Better now or never...'_ _Issachar_ thought as he prepared for his imminent death. In his mind eyes, the faces of all of those whom he had killed flashed like a flipbook. And in the end, the image a bloodied Flynn poised to kill him met him.

A moment passed, and he could feel the guards gaze peering deep withing his very self. The other black guardian deity barked a few words in his angelic tongue, to which Manohara answered in kind.

"Translation, you ain't the one who zapped Flynn. No affinity for Zia skill." Manohara spoke as he rose from his position, the samurai securely wrapped in his cap.

Relief flooded the demonized casulary. This...this was one sin he was innocent of._ '__B__ut...if it wasn't me...then what happened.'_

"Alright, we're bringing you the Bhaktivedanta Hospital. You also look like you when trough the wringer."

"Huh?" He felt fine...better then he had all of his life. But after a quick inspection, Issachar realized that he was bloodied, and his clothing was charred, cut and had many holes worth worrying about.

And he did not want to let Flynn out of his sight.

Issachar leered at Manohara. "Alright, I agree to follow you, but any wrong move..." He threatened.

The guard but raised an eyebrow. "And what'll you do? Hiss at me? C'mon man, nights about to end, we don't want Pilgrims to panic seeing you both." He grabbed Issachar, and took to the sky, his precious cargo in one set of hands and a screaming demon in the others.

* * *

As it turned out, Issachar was pretty beaten up too. But no pain had registered until Flynn had been taken away by the healers.

Issachar had been taken in a room where healers removed his tattered clothing, washed his many wounds and covered them with a yellow sticky substance, and clean cotton gauze. He was dressed in new, comfortable cloth and given a room and some food. And even if it was clear he was not Human anymore, he had been treated with care and respect...more then he had ever received in his life.

But then, he had seen a few non-human entities also.

The whole atmosphere of this hospice was that of peace, love and healing. It held no fear, no sorrow...even those who seemed to be dying looked livelier then children, almost like young brides on their wedding day.

And then came the food.

From what Issachar could smell, it was a simple porridge made from rice and tiny yellow beans, boiled together with a few delicious vegetable and exotic spices until it became one with everything else. It smelled heavenly, and It's bright, the yellow colour was enough to uplift anyone's mood.

But the Casulary did not have any appetite.

'_Flynn...what are they doing to you?" _The last time he had seen his friend, he had been laid out on a stretcher by Manohara and wheeled away to where the smell of blood and death was at it's strongest.

He had almost grabbed Flynn to flee for this place, but then he began feeling his wounds.

And thus, he was in a room beside another man with many crosses carved in his face. He was praying and seemed not to have noticed his new roommate.

All the better, Issachar did not care for someone panicking about his nature. But, at the same time, Issachar wouldn't mind opening up about...well, everything.

He felt so alone. It was only him and the knowledge that he had razed his own village to the ground in an attempt to overthrow the cast system and humble those prideful luxurors.

In hindsight, it had been a horrible, short-sighted plan bound to fail.

_' __T__he gauntlet was right...I'm no Samurai.' _Hindsight was a funny thing; it is always right, but always too late.

"Yes, you are right, my dear friend!" the old man suddenly spoke, a blissful smile illuminating his face as he sat in his bed. "Failures are the best of teachers; one will not dare to them again." he paused.

"If he is a good student, that is." he chuckled as he shook his head, making his white hair sway.

Issachar stared at him...he spoke the language of Mikado. It was so reassuring then the hear the angelic dialect of those who dwell in these sacred lands.

_'Might as well learn how to speak in the tongue of the natives...I don't think I can even show my face back home anymore.' _

"Hmm..." He heard the elderly man spoke. And then he realized he was talking to him. "Are you going to eat this kichadi?"

He raised his head. "...The what now?"

The balding, long-haired elder open his eyes wide. And Issachar realized his mistake.

'_Oh Naraku's lowest level..Issachar, why?'_

"Oh my..." the old man muttered, his smile gone as he stared at the demonized casulary. But his mirthful attitude was not gone, for it came back with a vengeance as he spoke those words. "The Lord really is all-merciful, isn't he!"

With all those crosses he had carved oh his face, Issachar was not at all surprised to hear those words out of the old man's mouth.

"...I don't know about that." he mumbled, unable to tolerate this good-nature man attitude.

"And why is that son?" The old man asked, still sitting on his bed. But Issachar had a hunch the elder would...and probably could move closer to him, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulder.

He...longed for that.

"Sir...I've made a terrible mistake..."

"Do you mind to tell me about it? I swear, I may judge you a bit, but I will not act upon it." the old man truthfully admitted.

Issachar remained quiet...the weight of his guilt was enough, he did not need to hear any more words of chastisement.

"Alright...you don't need to speak right now. But at least answer me this question." The old man asked as he rose from his bed with a wince. Is smile was gone, and he had this very determined look to him.

As he loomed over the demonized youth, Issachar could only brace for what would come.

"Are you going to eat that?" He pointed at the cooling meal.

"Yo, Khyo!" Cane a voice from the doorway. Causing Issachar all but jump out f his skin. "You already ate! Leave red-eye's portion alone."

The red-eyed demon whipped his head toward the easy-going voice. At the door was a young man not much older than him. He had darker skin, sporting a goatee, had dreads tied in a ponytail and a very casual demeanour.

He was dressed in a black hoody with some white Sanskrit writing and a pair of pants that would be impossible to describe as anything other than a white bed sheet.

But the most striking feature was the black 'U' shaped mark on his forehead.

'_Come to think of it, most of the clergy also bore the same mark... a white mark.' _

"I don't remember eating, so it doesn't count."The elder huffed as he crossed his thin arm against his chest. Returning to his bed and sitting down on it like a pouty five-year-old.

_'Like my little brother.' _

The youth, who seemed to be around the same age as Issachar, swaggered by his bedside a very fond smile on his lips. "And how about you, bud, how you holding?"

Issachar leered at the stranger from the corner of his eyes. "...Do I know you?"

The youth gave this colossal smile that seemed to cover most of his face. "Yeah, man! It's me, Manohara!"

Manohara...the undead eyes grew wide as his memory kicked in high gear. "No way..."

"Yeah, way."

"But...you look..."

"Normal? Human?"

Issachar nodded as he tried to understand how a seven feet tall deity could somehow take the form of a five and a half feet tall man.

Manohara smiled wider. "Guess what? I am a human. I was in my armour the first time we met!"

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. A hundred and ten percent true."He grinned widely. "can't show you in the hospital though, they just hate to clean up all the burn mark."

"uh-uh." Issachar nodded dumbly as he felt his brain melting a little.

"So...your ah...Ishvara, right?" Manohara asked.

"No, It's Issachar."

"Ah, what a beautiful name." The old man sighed from his side of the room. "The ninth son of Jacob...There will be a reward."

Both the demon and the guard stared at the old man before Manohara broke the silent. "Eh, don't mind him. he's a bit crazy." He gently dismissed, eliciting some laughter from the Crazy old coot."Anyway, how are you holding? Looked pretty roughed up back there."

"I'm fine." Issachar dismissed. He still felt like crap inside, but his wounds were not that bad.

"Your voice says otherwise." Manohara spoke with knowledge and without his usual levity.

Issachar looked at the dark-skinned guard...he didn't want to speak about it but...

But he could still hear his Nana tell assured him that it was perfectly acceptable for a man to be open about his emotions. And not to keep things hidden from authority.

He sighed, what would she think of him now?

"I...my body can heal. But my heart feels like a pile of refuse." There, that was an excellent place to start.

"I see...ya wanna open up?" Manohara asked as he pulled out a chair and sat in it with the back facing backward.

"If you learn of my wrongdoing...what will be the consequence?"

Manohara's brow reached his hairline, and the old man looked at him. The guard then twisted his body to look at the elder, who gave him a very understanding and encouraging smile.

"Well...it depends on what you did. But I have a hunch I already know." The friendly guard spoke as he turned his attention back to the sinner. "But, as one of the blessed guard of Mayapur, I have to hear and offer neutral counsel to all, no matter their crime."

"Every saint has a past." Cross face chipped in. "And every sinner has a brighter future."

Issachar remained silent. He knew it was inevitable. And yet, he still wanted to keep what he did deep within the deepest recess of his heart, to bring them with him to his grave and beyond.

_**'Issachar, speak.' **_The voice within spoke once more.

He took a deep, steadying breath. Letting in the aroma of his cooling meal, the sweet incense and the clean smell of the hospice ground emotionally.

"I...I read the forbidden literature...gaining this knowledge, my anger grew."

"what was int his literature?" Manohara asked.

"the truth...How we, the casulary, are oppressed by the _pigs on the upper echelons. How we are but slaves, working day a__**nd night for stale bread. Our vegetables and grains...**_**"**

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Memories of the unforgiving winter and times of famines assaulting him... "The Luxuror would gorge themselves on the fruits of our labours, our sacrifice while we, the lower cast would barely make it past the dreary season. If we want...wanted to survive, then we have no choice but to take lowly jobs to gather enough Macca to have some scraps."

His sisters...His mother...Maidservant in an over-glorified brothel.

And Flynn...

"Medicine, fresh food, clean water, even just common human decency was taken from us." He opened his red eyes, piercing Manohara's black pupil. "Even the church...our only means of education repressed us, cover this knowledge and try to pacify us with platitudes like' this is you God-Given Position' and 'Do not ask more.' and 'Do not go against the Lords wishes...you ungrateful filth.'"

_His father hit the ground as the samurai, a luxuror, struck him down. His only sin had been to ask for some medicine for his ailing wife..._

Anger mounted, he had closed his eyes again as he tried to control the flames that rose from within.

"When I realized...no, when I stopped hiding from the truth and accepted my role as the one who would bring this entire sick system down, I fully accepted the teachings of the Black Samurai." Issachar concluded his tale with gravitas...He still felt anger, and the burning of his monumental failure.

"So, You took the reds." Manohara concluded.

"The what now?" Issachar asked, more than a little confused at the terminology.

"Well, ya know, the huge red 'pills'?"

The demon slowly shook his head as he tried to understand the mellow guard.

"...You didn't take it?"

"take what?" Issachar snapped back, still on edge from his whole ordeal. "We did not take anything...we only read the Black Samurai's accursed literature."

"And it turned you into a demon..."

Shamed burned brightly. "Yes...I have corrupted my soul with anger and hatred,.The gates of heavens have closed, and my ticket to hell has been delivered. I have killed, maimed and wounded my best friend and shamed my family...I deserve whatever punishment you see fit." Issachar sighed. He felt like the greatest of all wretch, and yet, he felt paradoxically better. But the knowledge that his judgement was underway was enough to dampen the mood.

Not that admitting murder and arson made everything better; it was more akin to this feeling of relief one has after confessing to a priest.

The silence of the room was deafening. Both Manohara and the Old man, Kyoh gazed at him, deep in thought.

Finally, Manohara spoke. "Welp...your story ain't makin' any sense man. Never heard anyone turning into a demon without a red. Even the most pissed-off guy in Tokyo will not turn into a demon. Never seen it happen, never heard it happen and never had to kill anyone who went to the process to turn into a demon by reading some book." Manohara concluded as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"If I may intrude on this entire conversation." Khyo...inserted himself. "I have heard from Dhira-Shanta Maharaja that, in this age of Kali, where quarrel and hypocrisy reign, we all have a demoniac and angelic propensity in our heart."

"Yeah, but acting like a demon won't make you look like one." Manohara commented. "Something like this is unheard of in Tokyo.

"Tokyo?" Issachar never heard this word in his life. Blinking his red eye. "where ever your village may be, this is what happened." Issachar argues. He could feel the searing pain in his eyes, the proof of his demoniac nature. "I am a demon...I have laid waste to my village, killed countless..."

"I am a sinner...I know my destination."

What he did was inexcusable, his poor father had driven in his thick skull about how real men will hold themselves accountable for any mistake they made. For if they wouldn't, God would.

"And how 'bout Flynn. You know what happened to him."

Issachar felt his heart drop. He had been so far in his lamentation; he had forgotten his best friend. "I...He became a Samurai yesterday. I will admit, I had grown envious of his betterment of fate..." He scratched the back of his head "And...This is actuality what spurred me t accept my demoniac side."

Oh...the searing shame burned him deep. How could he had wished ill on Flynn...

"I..I wanted...to Kill him..."

_Flynn, with his Katana poised. He was holding back the tears, his teeth gritted... _

_And Issachar could only feel pain._

"Yo! Bud! Hey, stay with us!" Manohara loudly spoke, rousing the demon from his memory.

"...Flynn and I...We fought." He whispered.

"And? What was the outcome?"

"I...I don't know." Issachar admitted. "But...I don't think I won."

"Well, From yours and Flynn's files, It's clear many days past since the last time you saw him."

Issachar raised his head towards the cross covered elder, some rays of hope shining within his blacked heart. "Really?"

"Indeed, If Flynn had just become a Samurai a day before your unfortunate decision, then a bit more then a week past since the fight you had had with him."

"A week?" He breathed out. "I don't remember anything..." He realized with horror.

What did he do? Did he go mad? Did he kill more?

But most importantly...

"How is Flynn? What happened to him. Oh please, do not leave me in the dark." Issachar begged the guard and the elder.

Manohara remained silent, still gazing deep at the demon with eyes holding wisdom beyond his years.

"Flynn's alive...for now."

"Oh, Hell."

"Yeah, Tokyo's golden boy's ain't doing all that hot, He's suffering from some major electrical burns." Manohara informed the demon, his voice now quiet. "Last I saw they were wheeling him in the emergency dep. To try to wake him up, and I also heard some talk about him needing some surgery to get that fried COMP off his arms. That's all I know." The dread-head revealed. He was sombre, obliviously worried about Issachar's best mate.

Issachar laid back with all of his weight. so much had happened, and he was out of the loop.

Manohara got up from the chair, replacing it. "Well, You don't seem like a bad apple." He concluded. "Frustrated, abused and angry enough to turn yourself as a demon, but ya didn't seem to have any bad intention. Just some shitty decisions."

"Manohara, please watch your language!" Kyoh snapped.

"But." The guard's eyes turned as hard as iron, Ignoring the fuming martyr. "You _are_ still under probation."

"Probation?"

"It means that we trust you more than a downright demon. But not enough to leave you to run around by yourself." Manohara explained. "You did fell prey to your envy, and ya acted on it."

"You see, here in Mayapur, there is a cast system, the Divy-varnashram dharma. Now, from what I have read from the archive, it took five generations of pioneer to get where they are right now, and they will _not _tolerate any upstart trying to bust the whole system because they read some books and think they know better than the great sages."

A shiver went down his spine.

"I know you've had some shit worthy time. But do understand that this holy place has rules to follow and a certain etiquette that goes with it. You are not expected to join the Bhakti cult, just be a decent person, treat everyone with respect,_ Don't __let you envy get the better of you__, _and everything will be fine." the Guard of Mayapur continued, his light mood gone.

"Kiyoharu will be your Parole agent." He gestured to the old man, who looked at him with a gentle smile and sparkling eyes. "He will house you, feed you and take care of you until you can get your ducks in a row. He will also answer whatever questions you may have about Mayapur, God, the universe and whatever will go trough this mind of yours."

Manohara, his mission done, curtsied."Well, not that I don't like you guys, but I need-"

"To go to bed." Kiyoharu finished for him.

The dread-head looked at the elder with some annoyance and then gave a wane smile. "Yeah, man...My shift ended an hour ago. I just wanted to check up on Isa here...By the way, Isa, don't mind me being a hard ass 'bout something, job requirement and all that" Manohara let out a mouth craking yanw, covering his mouth with his hand. "Anyway, the hay's beckoning. I'll see you later, Kyoh, Issachar." And with that, Manohara exited the room, leaving Issachar to the care of the Elder man.

And Issachar in all that?

He had a lot to think about...and he didn't know where to start.

Well, no. Issachar did know where to start. With a firm vow to never read anything given by a masked person _ever. _And find a way how to make it up to Flynn somehow... If he survived.

"So...About-" Kiyoharu broke trough.

Issachar just gave his the tepid porridge, his appetite gone.


End file.
